


So, The Funny Thing Is

by seamonster (orphan_account)



Series: Because Life Is Not A Movie [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/seamonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life after the Scratch isn't so bad. It's pretty normal actually. Except John literally can not get Karkat out of his head. It doesn't help that they're together all the time.<br/>This is basically fluff, with a little sexy fluff thrown in for added flavoring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So, The Funny Thing Is

**Author's Note:**

> I made stuff up about trolls. Please, feel free to laugh at my grammar mistakes, and point them out to me. Because I need a proof-reader.  
> And, yeah, enjoy. Oh, and I warn you now, the ending is lame, because I suck at endings.

It was the theme diddy to Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog. Short, sweet, and oh-so awesome. It announced it's existence practically the second a black haired teen managed to duck into his tiny apartment, shaking rain droplets off of his jacket. Teen isn't a fitting word here. Although nineteen is still technically both teen and adult at the same time. The point is, his name is John Egbert, and he really should learn to keep an eye one the weather channel more often.  
Although, in his defense, it was beautiful outside when he left for his morning class. The fact that he brought his jacket with him was an automatic impulse for him in autumn, which just turned out to be lucky for him today.  
Another bout of that so cool snap of music reminded him he'd gotten a text, while simultaneously delivering another. John wasn't really even sure Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog could be considered a movie, but he was positive it could be considered one of the greatest things he'd ever watched. Neil Patrick Harris was no Nic Cage, but in John's book, he was good. And don't even get him started on Felicia Day.  
Managing to hang his wet jacket up and remove his squelching sneakers, John finally pulled out his phone and wandered the pitifully few steps it took for him to reach his coach and flop into it. The sender of the text made a smile alight his features.

 

-HOW DO HUMANS MANAGE TO ACHIEVE SUCH MORTIFYING OBESITY WHEN NEARLY ALL OF YOUR FOOD IS BOWEL-RETCHINGLY AWFUL?-

 

John chuckled at his iphone, this particular text chat open with someone he never got tired of talking to. Which was good, considering that ever since John had convinced Karkat to get an iPhone (telling him it was easier and more portable than Pesterchum), they had racked up so many texts, the number had to be in the thousands.

 

-FUCK EGBERT, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO INGEST THIS GARBAGE? MY INTESTINES ARE LITERALLY SQUIRMING IN UTTER DISGUST AT THE VERY NOTION.-

 

John didn't own a calendar. He didn't need one, he could always tell what day of the week it was simply by talking to Karkat. He was complaining about grocery shopping, which was a normal weekly thing, which meant it was Thursday. Nimble fingers danced over the touch-screen keyboard, logging a response.

 

-i can never leave you alone to shop by yourself, can i? why didn't  
you just wait until i got out of class?-

 

When he was done, he picked himself up off the couch again, nabbing his shoulder bag that he'd left by the door to dump on his desk. It didn't take long for the good doctor to inform him he had a response.

 

-WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOG WEASELED INTO YOUR THINK PAN AND MADE  
YOU ASSUME THAT I NEED A NOOKSTAIN LIKE YOU TO ASSIST ME IN A  
TASK SO MINDLESS AND TRIVIAL?-

 

-the fact the every time you try to grocery shop, instead of actually  
buying food, you cuss out the grocers and file, like, fifty million  
complaints before having to be escorted out of the store.-

  
-seriously, if you keep doing that, we're going to run out of stores  
we can actually shop at that are close by.-

 

-FUCK YOU. IT'S THEIR OWN FAULT FOR LACKING THE PROPER DELICACIES  
SUITED TO A TROLL'S MORE SOPHISTICATED PALATE.-

 

John wasn't even going to touch that one, especially considering a troll's pallet included grubs. Instead he just rolled his eyes and headed for his small adjacent kitchen/laundry room. On the way, he sent a quick response. Otherwise, Karkat would just keep complaining. And while John did enjoy the Cancer's colorful language, he could tell his friend was just complaining because he was hungry. A sentiment John could sympathize with. But unlike Karkat, John actually bought food when he went grocery shopping.

 

-if your delicateness can handle the rain, you can  
totally come raid my panty.-

 

Getting a response from that took longer than John had come to expect from Karkat. An offer of free food usually had him right off the bat.

 

-JOHN, I HAVE TO ADMIT, THE OFFER MAKES ME FEEL A LITTLE  
AWKWARD.-

  
-huh? what are you-

 

"Oh my god!" Backtracking caused a startled laugh to bubble from the teen, er, young adult.

 

-ahahahahha! nono, i meant PANTRY. oh my god!  
the stupid autocorrector changed it and i didn't even realize!-

  
-UH-HUH. SURE, JOHN.-

  
-no, but seriously. you can come on over. i'll cook some pasta  
or something.-

  
-...-

  
-BAKED SPAGHETTI?-

  
-sure, i'll start on baked spaghetti :B-

  
-I'LL BE THERE IN TEN MINUTES-

 

 

And by ten minutes, he of course meant five. Because let's be honest, it does not take ten minutes to stuff your feet into some shoes, throw on a jacket and and bolt up two flights of stairs at a relatively safe speed for the wet weather conditions. And with the promise of free, home-made, delicious pasta? Please.  
Karkat didn't knock, never did. Why would he? He had John's spare key, after all. He just let himself in and locked the door firmly behind himself. A second jacket got hung up next to the first, two more sneakers joining the pair by the door.

  
"Dinner?" was literally the first thing out of Karkat's mouth when he leaned into John's kitchen. It roused a familiar chuckle from the black-haired boy who stood at the stove, adding some salt to a pot of water he put on to boil. Next to it was the sauce pan that didn't even have sauce in it yet, and the oven was pre-heating.

 

"Hello to you, too, dear. Welcome home, did you have a nice day at work?"

  
All the sarcasm earned him was a pinch to the back of his arm when Karkat half-pouted over his shoulder to see what was on the stove. "A watched pot never boils, Kar. And you didn't exactly pick a quick course to make."

  
"Ngh."

  
"Go pick out a movie, or find something on Netflix," the laughter in his words made Karkat heave a sigh and leave the kitchen, to let John cook in peace. Mostly. Which was a relief to the one now dicing a tomato. At a whopping 9 1/2 sweeps old (Karkat refused to count by earth years despite now living on earth), John had no idea the troll would grow so tall. To be honest, he was pretty sure Karkat hadn't expected it either. John was by no means short, but his friend could now see clear over his head (barely).  
And he wasn't all gangly and awkward as one might expect. A bit on the slender side, maybe, but he'd matured rather well. If John bothered to think about it, he might be a little jealous considering he himself still felt sixteen and awkward as hell. By proxy, if he bothered to think about it, he might even say Karkat looked...nice. Really nice.  
Really, very nice. But of course, he didn't bother to think about it. At all.

  
"Fuckass! Did you go fucking deaf in there?"

  
"Huh?" Highly intelligent response, Egbert. Thank you, disembodied opinion.

  
"I asked you if you wanted to watch Star Trek, the new movie, not the older, hilarious television series."

  
John turned around a bit with slightly down-turned lips, "I don't own Star Trek."

  
"It's on instant."

  
"It is? Oh hell yes! Oh- add it to my queue!"

  
"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill," he heard Karkat sigh exasperatedly. John turned back to his work, but at a thought turned back again.

  
"And give it five sta-ah!"

  
The knife John had been holding, using to chop the chives into much smaller pieces, clacked sharply against the counter when he jerked, releasing it immediately. He hissed and pressed the thumb of his other hand over the cut he'd inadvertently just given himself, painfully in the first crook of his index finger.

  
"Shit," the rare, course expletive tumbled past his lips softly.

  
"What'd you fuckin' do now, Egbert?" Karkat was suddenly right there with him, frowning in concern despite his harsher words. Without even waiting for an response, he took over the situation, removing John's thumb so he could see.

  
"Shit, way to bleed all over dinner. Good job," but he took John by the arm and led him out of the kitchen, into the bathroom cozied inside John's bedroom on the other side of the apartment. Before he knew it, he was sitting on his toilet lid, gentle claws cleaning away the blood that was indeed dripping from the cut, and being bandaged up like a toddler who scrapped his knee falling off a tricycle.

  
"Sorry about the chives," he winced the tiniest bit when neosporin went over the open wound. "But the sauce should taste fine without them."

  
"Damn well better," Karkat grumbled as he searched for band-aids. When he found the box, he cocked a brow and gave John one of his looks. "Seriously, Egbert?"

  
"What? They're Mickey Mouse! They're totally awesome."

  
"Sure, if you're three sweeps old," but Karkat put one over the cut anyway, with all the gentleness no one would expect from him.

  
It was admittedly one of John's favorite things about Karkat. He'd always been more than a little rough around the edges, and didn't have many (if any) other friends that weren't trolls because he kind of just scared the pants off of anyone who spoke to him. Except John, of course. But as the years had gone on, he'd kind of mellowed out. He didn't insult people with nearly as much fire as he used to, unless he was really pissed off. But he was also a lot harder to piss off now. Well, harder by Karkat standards.  
Their friendship exploded into something a lot more solid and grounded, and hanging out with him was actually the best way John could think of to spend his day. Five years ago, he barely stopped yelling at John long enough to have an actual, normal conversation. Now they were inseparable. Practically.

  
"John!"

  
"What?" blue eyes found themselves being bored into by crimson iris's. And, blinking behind his glasses, John realized he'd totally just spaced out again. Karkat obviously noticed it as well.

  
"Do I need to take you to an earth physician or something?"

  
"What? Why? Is the cut that bad?" John sat up straighter so Karkat wasn't in his face, and he observed his bandaged finger, poor fellow, that was a good man down.

  
"John," Karkat started before trailing off with a sigh and leaning his face in his palm. But he stared critically at his friend until those blue eyes wandered back to him again. "As horribly sappy and disgusting this is going to sound, I have been legitimately concerned about your well being as of late."

  
A surprised frown, "you have?"

  
"Yes, hoofbeast shit for brains. The last week you've been completely spacing out for long intervals, and you become completely unresponsive and it's-" Karkat huffed another sigh. "it's worrying me."

  
Finally, John smiled warmly at the troll, not missing the red flush that appeared in those grey cheeks. He liked mother hen Karkat. On impulse John rarely relied on, he gently placed his uninjured hand on the head of the troll kneeling on his bathroom floor. Karkat immediately tensed up under his palm, but he didn't care. His fingers softly brushed a nubby horn and he swear he felt him shiver.

  
"I'm fine, Karkles," he said at last, smile widening when the troll uttered a displeased growl at the nickname. "I've just been...thinking a lot lately. And I guess I've been getting carried away by my thoughts. But I'm fine, I promise. I really, I didn't mean to worry you."

  
By the time he was done talking, the growl had died, and Karkat was staring at him like he wished he could dissect his brain in a vain hope to know what exactly was taking John's attention so far away from reality. He had no idea the reason was much closer than he'd ever think to guess.

  
"Now," a bright smile diffused the tension, and John help up his Mickey Mouse band-aid finger between them. "One soldier down, he needs a replacement. Orrrr, ten replacements. Thank you for volunteering, son, you'll do your country proud."

  
"What?"

  
"Dinner, now."

  
"Egbert, you know I can't cook-"

  
"Hup-to!"

 

 

 

Of all the things he'd learned from his father, cooking was probably the most appreciated talent. Appreciated by all of his friends, that is. Mostly Karkat. And though he forced the troll, who really could not cook, to help him in the kitchen, and as much of a catastrophe it'd nearly turned into in such a small space, dinner made it through to the end without a single burn. It was also very promptly consumed, with buttered pieces of bread and some cola to wash it all down with.  
And as the Starship Enterprise blasted off into warp speed one last time on the television screen, it did so with the audience of two very full, very satisfied, friends.

  
"Dude, that movie is so awesome. It is never not awesome, no matter how many times I watch it."

  
"It's mediocre. Although the way they show Kirk and Spock's transition from kismesis into morails is almost artistic. I can appreciate that."

  
John laughed softly, his shoulder leaned right up against the troll he shared the small couch with, "if it's only 'mediocre' then why did you pick it to watch?"

  
Karkat shifted as if uncomfortable, though he only leaned more into the human at his side, "because you like it. And you were making me dinner."

  
A fair flush found it's home on John's face, smile widening to the point he had to bite his lip. But before he could respond to that admittance, Karkat spoke again.

  
"Since you don't have classes tomorrow, could you proof-read one of my papers? That bitch still frowns at my work in disapproval, but won't actually tell me what's wrong with it."

  
"Of course! Bring it over in the morning, I'll make pancakes."

  
Karkat had to be the luckiest fucking troll alive, "Egbert, from now on, I'm just going to give you my grocery money and you can cook for me everyday."

  
"I already do cook for you most days out of the week," but he'd be totally fine with cooking for him more. Cooking for two made him feel warm somehow.

  
"Then consider this a promotion. You're welcome."

  
"Thank you ever so much, sir. You won't regret your decision."

  
"Dipshit."

  
Despite the crude name, Karkat smiled as he said it, unable to help himself when John laughed like that. And the giggling continued as the credits rolled on the television, the both of them voicing funny names when they spotted some.

But the television abruptly went dark, along with all the lights in the apartment, effectively stopping the laughter. Without the noise of the movie, they could hear the storm raging outside.

  
"Hm, the electricity went out."

  
"No shit, Sherlock."

  
A few moments was waited in silence, but nothing flickered back to life.

  
"Damn this shitty building!" Karkat finally huffed, sitting up straight, which forced John to do so as well. "Do you have a fucking flashlight or something?"

  
"Ummmm, yeah. Hold on," John drug himself off of the couch. Stumbling his way into his room, and hearing a sigh every time he bumped into something, he opened his dresser and rifled around. "I guess this means dinner and a movie night is over." Finally, he found his flashlight, clicking it on. Green light immediately spouted from the end, a black silhouette of his favorite slimer ghost in the middle of the light.

  
"Hopefully the light's will be back on in the morning."

  
"Hopefully-Egbert, what the fuck?"

  
"What?"

  
Since he was certainly too polite to shine his flashlight into Karkat's face, he missed how he rolled his eyes. But the troll said nothing about it in the end. Instead, they cleaned up their dishes (Karkat even washing them off), and cleaned up the small mess they'd made, in the green light. When Karkat was putting his shoes back on, he perked a brow at the flashlight being offered to him.

  
"Don't want you falling down the stairs, just bring it back tomorrow."

  
Although he seemed hesitant to take it, he did, with an uttered thanks. And one jacket later John was waving him out the door.

  
"Don't forget I'm making breakfast."

  
"Yeah yeah, fuckass, I got it."

 

When John was alone again, he stumble his way about his apartment. He cleaned his teeth, brushed his hair, and even changed into pajamas, all in the dark because it was becoming apparent that their lights were not coming back on tonight. But it wasn't until John was curling up under his covers, alarm on his cell phone set to wake him up bright and early, did John realize it was getting a bit nippy.  
Right, the heat. Without electricity, there was no heat. Well, crap on a darnburger. Just the thought made John pull his covers up higher.  
Instead of falling asleep straight away, like he used to, His mind immediately wandered back to the troll he'd just had dinner with. The troll he'd be making breakfast for tomorrow. The troll he'd been thinking about every night before he fell asleep for quite a little while now. He found that it wasn't really something he could help.  
John blamed Karkat's change in attitude, but on a subconscious level he knew that really had nothing to do with it. If he was honest with himself, he'd felt this way about the Cancer for a long time. Practically since the Scratch, when Trolls came and integrated into their society. He just couldn't get him out of his head lately. Was it because they hung so much together?

  
John rolled over under his blankets, sighing into his pillow with a small shiver. Would it get so bad that he'd accidentally say something stupid to Karkat? Like, the truth? 'Karkat, you're really awesome and totally my best friend, but sometimes I wish you'd just smother me with kisses.' It'd be, like, the best way to die. Except just saying that to him would probably also cause his death because Karkat would strangle him for saying something so idiotic, and probably preach about the quadrants, then slap him for good measure. He'd probably also stop being so sweet.  
Although John wasn't entirely sure how long he could stand the kindness before he snapped or something.  
A crack of lightening outside did make him snap out of his thoughts, and made him jerk just a bit. Damn it was getting cold. He wondered if Karkat was cold, too. Without really thinking about it, he snagged his phone off of the side table and sent the troll a text, despite the fact that it was already almost midnight. With that, he closed his eyes again, phone still in his hand.  
Sleep was just barely creeping up over his mind when he heard a jingle coming from his front door. And swear. And finally the door swung in, a familiar voice calling out.

  
"John?"

  
"In here," John sat up in bed, giving a stretch as green light flooded into his room preceding a ruffled looking troll.

  
"What happened? I brought a blanket," and in his arms was, in fact, a blanket. Cha-ching.

  
"You did indeed bring a blanket."

  
"Well, yes, you said to in your 'omg, get up here now. bring a blanket.' text, dumpass! Are you alright?" Karkat looked a little shocked when the black-haired teen started laughing softly. "What?"

  
"Did you lock the front door?"

  
"Of course!"

  
"Then get in, I'm cold."

  
It took several minutes for Karkat's mind to apparently process what he just said, crimson eyes just staring in a small state of shock. To help move his thought process along, John lifted the corner of his own blanket and patted the bed beside himself.  
But instead, he found himself with a face full of a new blanket, one that smelled amazingly like his best friend. Oh god. It was intoxicating.

  
"If nothing's wrong, I'm going home," he heard Karkat growl, and John had to force himself to break away from the blanket and scramble across his bed as fast as he could.

  
"Wait, Karkat!" while his foot got tangled in the sheet, he managed to avoid an introduction between his nose and the floor, barely. And only because he managed to get a grasp on the troll who had turned to leave. Karkat's first indignant sound turned into a small snarl when he was pulled back again. But John was stronger than he looked.

  
".....John."

  
"Please stay. Pretty please?"

  
Karkat sighed again, staring up at the dark ceiling from the flat of his back. His back that John was currently attached to, hanging on to the troll like a spider monkey. So really, Karkat was laying on top of John, who ignored how surprisingly heavy he was.

  
"Do I really have a choice?"

  
"Well, yes, of course, but... I'd really like you to stay..." John bit his lip again, shocked at himself with how needy those words had come out. Hopefully Karkat didn't notice, but he couldn't tell. The troll did, however, sigh again.

  
"Fine. Let me go, your blankets are a fuckin' mess."

  
John actually gave a small cheer and did just that, let Karkat stand up as he himself moved to fix the blankets. The one that had been brought was laid out over his own since it was a little thicker. For a second, Karkat seemed hesitant to get into the bed with him. But in the end he did. And with both of them under the covers, John smiled, tucking some around his back.

  
"Wasn't it cold down in your place, too? The heat isn't working."

  
"I guess."

  
"This way, we can keep each other warm."

  
"Wh-John!"

  
He ignored the protest and cuddled into the troll's side anyway, cheek resting against his shoulder and, after a moment of serious thought, he placed his hand on Karkat's chest. There, not so hard. Hm. His heart seemed to be beating a little fast.

  
"John."

  
"Hmn?"

  
"You know I won't be able to help keep you warm, ...right?"

  
"Hmn?" blue eyes opened again at that, and John tilted his face up towards Karkat's in the dim.

  
"Trolls are cold-blooded, fuckass. Have you seriously never noticed?" but his tone was strangely soft and out of place. John frowned ever-so slightly, and the hand he'd had resting on Karkat's chest moved down and under his shirt, to press softly against his tummy. While Karkat squawked in a most unbecoming manner, John realized he was right.

The skin beneath his fingers felt very thick and had a bit of a rough texture to it, and it was also, undeniabley, cool to the touch.

  
"S-see?"

  
"I guess I just never thought about it before," John murmured, graciously not commenting on how Karkat's voice wavered. He removed his hand, fixing the other's shirt. But instead of moving away, like Karkat clearly expected, he just cuddled in more, tucking his face into the crook of his neck and relaxing.  
It took several moments for Karkat to relax as well, but he did, and his arm even snaked about his shoulders to hold in return. John smiled.

  
"...You're really warm," the words were uttered so softly, John almost didn't catch them. His cheeks heated up and his smile widened, and he just couldn't stand it.

  
"You may be cold-blooded, but don't trolls feel like molten lava when they're aroused?"

  
The arm around his shoulders tightened, claws digging lightly into his skin.  
"...What?"

  
"Don't trolls fee-"

  
John never got to finish the sentence. One of Karkat's deep, gluttoral growls cut him off, as well as being knocked away onto his back. Before he really knew what was happening, he found himself looking up into crimson eyes and a mouth twisted into a snarl as Karkat was leaned over him, holding him down on the bed.  
"Who told you that?" the troll demanded softly. John just stared with wide eyes, not sure whether or not he should be afraid. "John, who?"

  
"You're not the only troll I know, Karkat."

  
"That neither answered my question nor made me feel any better."

  
"What's the big deal?" John finally frowned, trying to roll out from under the troll, but he was being held down too firmly.

  
"The 'big deal', Egbert, is that you should not know anything in regards to what trolls are like when they're....aroused," he practically ground the last word out. "The fact that you know about the buckets is bad enough."

  
"But why?"

  
"Why?! Jegus fuck, Egbert, does your lack of propriety know no bounds?" Karkat grit his teeth with a frustrated gowl. "Look, unlike you humans, trolls don't go around casually discussing bedroom matters with everyone they talk to, especially humans. Only when, and if, we do, it's because we're interested in sharing a bucket with them."

  
John was actually a little surprised that Karkat had just said something like that, and the expression on the troll's face told him he felt dirty saying it. But he wasn't done.

  
"Now, John," he was grinding his words out now, very deliberately. "Whoever told this.. information to you, wasn't just doing so for conversation, they want in your pants. So, you are going to tell me who, right now."

  
John swallowed a bit of a lump in his throat, mind immediately going to Vriska. She wanted in his pants? That.... he guessed he could see that. But more importantly, "why?"

  
"You and that fucking word. Why?! So I can rip their fucking throats out, dipshit!"

  
It was then that it finally dawned on John, with Karkat huffing angry breaths above him, he finally understood why this was a big deal to him.

  
He was jealous.

  
Karkat was jealous? Dear Gog, did that mean-?

  
"John," that deep growl rumbled above him again when he suddenly smiled, bright and wide and happy. But this time the sound sparked something deep in John's tummy, and he didn't even give Karkat a chance to protest when he leaned up.

  
The kiss took Karkat entirely by surprise. It was obvious by the way he froze, growl dying immediately. And while the feeling of those sharp teeth did scare John just a bit, it was mingled with exhileration.  
The kiss was also short, because Karkat was still holding him down and it hurt to crane his neck up like that. So when John pulled back, still smiling so wide he doubted he'd ever be able to stop, he stared up into those crimson eyes, biting his lip softly.  
Karkat stared back, though his mind seemed somewhere else entirely until he voiced John's favorite word back at him softly, "why?"

  
"Because I like you, stupid," John chuckled. Though, after a moment of no response, the corners of his smile drooped, "don't...do you not like me?"

  
The pressure on his shoulders, keeping him down, suddenly let up, because Karkat found his arms were much more useful wrapping around John's back, pulling him up to meet his lips again. But this time, he kissed back.  
And John was positive he'd never felt anything better in his life. His lips were cool, but his tongue was hot, dear lord. And when his own tongue grazed the sharp points of his teeth, it sent a shiver right down his spine. His arms found themselves wound around the troll's neck, hands burying in his hair. When his fingers bumped against those blunt horns, he groped at them, earning an entirely new sound from Karkat that he'd never heard before. It sounded beautiful. It wasn't until he felt claws so gently brushing down his back that he even realized Karkat's hands were under his shirt. He shivered a small moan, earning a gasp in response, and holy fuck why hadn't they been doing this sooner?  
One thing was proving to be certain, the more they touched each other and their kisses strayed from their mouths, Karkat's skin was definatly heating up. So much that when John finally tugged his shirt up, just wanting to feel his rough skin, it felt as though he was on fire. The heat only passing into John.

  
"Karkat," he moaned a lot louder than he meant to, trembling gently as tentively rolled his hips up. The following groan resonated in his groin.

  
"Shit, John," Karkat was breathy, and squeezing John's hips gently, but he managed out some very unwanted words. "We have to stop."

  
A soft whine from John and being tugged down to kiss again nearly made him say 'fuck it', but he managed to force himself to break away. "No, no, John stop."

  
"Why?"

  
"Because when I said trolls need buckets, I mean we need buckets, and the electricity is out, and I don't want to make a mess of your bed because then we won't be able to sleep in it, plus this is going so fast, and I love you so much, and I don't want you to think I'm just-"

  
John shut off Karkat's quick ramble with a hard kiss, followed by several more desperately happy ones. "Karkat," the problem between his legs was completely forgotten, supressed by the overwhelming pressure in his chest.

  
"I love you," he breathed against the troll's lips, tears slipping out of his eyes, smile back full force. Karkat actually smiled back like John had never seen, and he was convinced his chest was going to burst.

  
"I know, dipshit."

 


End file.
